Ravens in the Tower
by Drag0nst0rm
Summary: The taint can't claim Gotham so long as there's a Bat. And there is a very long line of people willing to take up the title. (Sequel to "And What Will Poor Robin Do Then?")
1. Ravens

**WARNING: This fic contains a lot of dark stuff. Warnings are kind of spoilery, so if you want them, skip to the bottom.**

 **There's a legend that says that if the ravens ever leave the Tower of London, the crown and the nation will fall. That seemed appropriate for this fic.**

 **I've finally seen Justice League! I still have plans to do that League fic in this 'verse, but this demanded to be written first.**

* * *

The passages and rooms hidden between the walls of the old fortress were suffused with a cold damp that no amount of flickering torches could cure. Jason had never paid much attention to it before.

Not until he kept catching Bruce trying to stifle coughs as they went over a map of the city together, trying to find a pattern to the most recent attacks.

"Still not over that winter chill, old man?" He kept his tone scornful to hide the seed of real worry that was slowly growing in his mind. They'd all assumed that the slow return of spring would herald the end of the last of Bruce's lingering illness.

"I'm fine."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Of course you are." He looked Bruce over critically. His eyes caught on things that he'd overlooked before. The deeper than usual shadows under his eyes. The tight lines of pain that were just visible around his mouth. The way the gray in his hair had morphed from a sprinkling of silver to a hoard of it.

He had to be pushing fifty by now. By the standards of the streets he once lived on, and, for that matter, the court he ruled now, Bruce was positively ancient.

"I heard Dick was bringing Mar'i into the fold as the new Robin," he said casually. "I'd imagine he'll want to stick pretty close to her, especially at first."

"Understandably."

"You ever think maybe it's time for you to step down? Let Dick be the Bat?"

Bruce finally looked up from the map. "My granddaughter is going out into the field," he said flatly. "I am not letting her go out without doing everything I can to protect her."

"See, I get that, but I feel like you're jumping over the key word of _granddaughter._ You're getting old, Bats."

Bruce's mouth was a grim line. He went back to studying the map.

Anger was starting to fizzle through him, but he pushed on. "Come on, B. If the city went to war tomorrow, nobody would blink an eye if you didn't go out on the field. What makes this so different?"

"I will not leave my children to finish the war I dragged them into until I have no other choice." Bruce's hand had a white knuckle group around the table. The words had come out in the Bat's growl.

"Nobody dragged me anywhere," Jason protested automatically. "I distinctly remember having a choice."

"You were children," Bruce repeated.

"Children die on the streets every day," Jason countered. "You gave us a chance." He shrugged. "And it's water under the bridge now. I'd bet anything the others agree with me. You can't tell me no one else has said anything."

The tightening of Bruce's shoulders was answer enough.

When he still didn't say anything, Jason sighed in an explosive huff. "Fine. Be that way." They still hadn't found a pattern, but at this point he didn't think they were going to. He turned to storm out.

He was almost to the passageway when Bruce called, "Jay?"

Bruce was the only one who called him that anymore, so he paused, just for a second.

"I'll be careful." It was a concession, coming from him.

"You'd better be, old man. Gotham needs the Bat."

They both knew that wasn't really what he meant.

"Then I'll be careful," Bruce repeated. "For Gotham."

* * *

The face carved into the sarcophagus was severe. Stern. The face of Prince Bruce of the House of Wayne, the one people were already calling 'the Great.'

Jason had always hated that expression.

He glared down at the grim face, fists clenched.

He'd had to watch the funeral procession as one of the masses crowding the street.

Some people would have brought flowers to the grave. Jason had been seriously considering bringing a severed head.

Wilting flowers were pointless. Vengeance meant something.

In the end, he'd compromised by showing up at the catacombs empty handed.

Which didn't mean that he hadn't still forcibly severed the head of more than one person that was responsible for this mess.

"The city's safe," he told the stone face harshly. "You got what you wanted. You know. For a night or two. Then the taint'll be right back and you'll - still - be - dead."

The shadows moved behind him.

"Dick," he acknowledged. He'd intended to be alone, and now that he wasn't he felt more on edge than ever, but maybe that was better. Dick and he had been rubbing each other wrong a lot lately, and a fight sounded like just what the healer ordered.

"Jason."

Jason sighed. That wasn't Dick's fighting voice. That was a tone he hadn't heard since Bruce had gone into the taint.

And this time Bruce wouldn't be coming back to fix it.

Dick stepped forward into the light of the torches that surrounded the grave. His face was twisted with grief.

Never let it be said that Jason kicked a man when he was down. Unless it was necessary.

He tried to focus on anything other than the seething rage and the emotion lurking behind it. "How's Tim holding up?"

Dick shrugged listlessly. "The coronation's tomorrow. He's . . . I don't think I've seen him look anything but blank since the night it happened. He's thrown himself into the work. He refuses to talk about anything else."

Jason groaned. "And the brat?"

"Damian's furious." Dick scrubbed a hand through his hair. "With you, mostly," he admitted after a moment.

And there was the fury raging up again. "I stayed on his back just like I was supposed to," he hissed. "I followed every order I was given this time. Don't you _dare_ say this was on me. He _told_ me he could handle it, and I had three of the taint-beasts on me at the same time. There was _nothing_ I could have done, do you hear me?"

Dick actually looked startled. He made to put a hand on Jason's shoulder, but he jerked away from it.

"This wasn't my fault!"

 _But you know better than that, don't you?_ the taint whispered.

 _Shut up_ , he hissed back.

"Of course it's not your fault," Dick said. "No one thinks it is, Jason."

"Apparently Damian does."

Dick gave him a tired smile. "Not Damian either. He's just mad you didn't leave anyone for him to kill."

Oh.

The rage seeped out of him and just left that awful emptiness behind. He tried to sidetrack it by side-eying Dick. "As you're the official representative of law and order in this city, I feel like I should probably deny that."

Once Dick might have laughed at that. Now he just gave a weary huff. His eyes were sweeping the narrow catacomb. A long line of dead princes and their families stretched out before them.

"Not much room left," he said quietly.

Jason shrugged. "I'm sure they can dig another one."

"Yeah. Of course."

Jason didn't trust that tone. When Dick spoke next, he knew he'd been right not to.

"You ever wonder how long the city'll last without him?"

Yes. But that wasn't what Dick needed to hear right now. "As long as we're here to fight for it," he said firmly.

"That's not what you said the first time we lost him. I heard you talking to Stephanie. 'The city'd fall without him.'"

Yeah, well, first of all, the first time they'd lost Bruce, Dick hadn't been scaring him like this, and second of all, those words were a little out of context, and what did it matter what he thought anyway?

But. "The city needs the Bat," he conceded. "So get out there already."

It'd mean some identity shuffling, but Duke didn't have a firm identity yet anyway. They could make it work.

A bit more life entered Dick's eyes. "Right." He squeezed Jason's shoulders. "Thanks. I . . . needed that." He took one last look at the grave and stepped forward.

Or tried to. There was a distinct wobble.

Jason grabbed his arm. "Whoa. Maybe don't start the patrol tonight."

"I'm okay," Dick assured him. "The healers just have me drugged up a bit."

Because he was still injured. Right. Jason had forgotten that.

Drugs explained _so much_ about their conversation tonight.

"Let's get you upstairs," Jason said, steering him toward one of the secret passageways. "You can be the big bad Bat tomorrow night."

"City needs someone tonight," Dick argued. The way his words had started to slur didn't really help his case.

"Great. You've already got the Bat's self-preservation skills down pat."

* * *

Jason was pretty sure Tim was still too young to be graying.

Of course, ruling a city was bound to take a toll on someone. Not to mention recent . . . events.

Jason couldn't quite bring himself to face it more head on than that. Not yet. Much easier to focus on the way his younger brother now looked decidedly older than him than to think about . . . that.

Of course, that was hard when he was watching Tim reach for the Bat's cowl.

"Your gloves are dripping." Tim's tone was politely unconcerned.

Jason looked down. So they were. He patted them off on his pants. "Not my blood," he clarified, in case there had been any doubt.

No, not his. _Theirs,_ ripped from them just as he had torn out their twisted hearts in a green tinged rage, and they had still deserved far, far worse -

"I shared with Damian this time," he offered. He'd considered bringing Mar'i into it, as it was as much her right as anyone's, but it would have been - It wouldn't have been what he would have wanted.

"Bruce wouldn't have been happy." The observation was neutral, but Jason bristled anyway.

"What else was there to do?"

"Execution," Tim pointed out.

Jason snarled. "Execution was too good for them after what they did."

Tim still hadn't actually put the cowl on. "I could have had them tortured first. To make sure there weren't any more conspirators." He sounded as if he had put considerable thought into it.

It suddenly occurred to Jason that the mild tone might be hiding not judgement, but Tim's own desire for vengeance.

After what had happened, Jason didn't blame him one bit.

Even Bruce might not have.

"Next time," he promised.

Tim laughed bitterly. "Next time. There's always a next time." He stared down at the cowl. "Of course, if the pattern holds, I'll be the one who needs avenging next time."

"Don't talk like that," Jason said harshly. "Nothing's going to happen to you."

Tim smiled for the first time since they'd found what little remained of Dick. "Comforting lies from you, Jason? Really?"

"I think we both know I'm not the type."

Tim considered that for a moment before finally putting on the cowl. "True enough."

* * *

Of all the reasons Jason had snuck into the fortress to talk to a Bat, his fellow vigilantes' love lives had never before made the list.

But. Well. It was affecting their wok in the field.

Tim was in the library, not in costume, so that made things a little awkward, but Jason hadn't come this far to be put off.

"Tim."

Tim didn't look up from his papers. "Red King."

Jason considered taking his cloak off to force Tim to engage on a more personal level, but the risk was too high. He leaned back against one of the shelves, tense with frustration. "Haven't seen you for a couple of nights."

"I've been busy."

"Right. Sure. And this has nothing to do with you breaking things off with Red Knight."

Tim paused briefly before going back to his papers. "Not . . . nothing, but it's not what you think either."

"Explain it to me, then."

Tim sighed. "I'm getting married."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Timmy, but I don't think breaking things off with your girlfriend is a good way to build up to a proposal."

Tim swallowed. "Not to St-Red Knight."

The slip, more than anything, threw Jason off.

Of course, the rest of it wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting either.

"How long have you had some other girlfriend that I didn't know about?" And exactly whose side was he supposed to take in this whole mess?

Tim sighed and finally looked up. "It's not like that."

"Like I said. Explain it to me, then."

Tim handed over a miniature portrait of a blond woman in an elegant red and gold dress. "Lady Cassandra Sandsmark of Gateway City. She has strong ties to the ruling family there."

The pieces started to fall into place. "This is political." He shook his head in disbelief. "You're going to throw away a perfectly good relationship for politics? Really?"

"I need an heir," Tim pointed out. "Sooner rather than later."

"And what, Steph's not good enough?" Jason's anger was rising now. Stephanie had come from the same streets he did.

"You think I don't wish it worked that way?" Tim was on his feet, his own anger stoked. "We're a city on the edge. We need this alliance. If I marry her, we can get better access to their harbors. Better trade. And Lady Cassandra was taught the High Magic by Diana. We'll strengthen our ties to Diana and bring some of the High Magic to our city in one fell swoop. The happiness of two people doesn't outweigh that!"

"And you think trapping yourself in a miserable marriage is the answer?"

Some of the anger drained out of Tim. He gave a small shrug. "I met her once. We didn't speak long, but I liked her well enough. Conner knows her better, and he speaks well of her."

He had met her. Once.

Jason could only imagine what Dick would have had to say about all this.

But he could feel the way the taint had recoiled at the very mention of the High Magic, and he couldn't think of what else to say against it.

"You know, I used to be a little jealous that you were the one Bruce was able to name as his heir."

Tim actually grinned. "Thinking better of that one now?"

"Kid, I thought better of that one about two minutes after you took the job."

* * *

As much as Jason hated to admit it, the prince's marriage - and it was still weird to think of Tim as the city's prince - and the subsequent announcement a few month's later of an impending heir created more stability in the city.

It did mean Tim was busier than ever though, and as the due date got ever closer, he took to staying in a few nights a week.

Jason didn't begrudge him the time, but this really couldn't wait, so he slipped into the fortress and snuck through the window of Tim's room.

The last thing he expected was to step into a fight.

One black shrouded figure was already on the ground. Tim was grappling with another.

And losing.

Jason lunged forward with a growl and sliced his knife across the intruder's neck. He let the body hit the floor before turning to Tim. "You alright?"

Tim had a hand pressed against a wound, but he said through gritted teeth, "Cassie. Check Cassie."

Jason whirled around. The moonlight revealed tangled and bloodstained sheets on the bed, but no princess.

Where were the stupid guards?

If the princess was alright, she would have joined the fight.

Dread rising, Jason walked over to the other side of the bed.

Another assassin lay dead without a mark on him. Magic, Jason presumed.

There was also a large pool of blood.

He could hear Tim shuffling forward. Jason turned and closed the distance between them, pushing him backward. "Let's get you to a healer."

"Cassie," Tim insisted. "She got it worse."

Jason swallowed. He wished he had killed the intruder slower. He wished there were more left to kill.

"Yeah. Yeah, she did."

Tim went pale. "Cassie," he said again, helplessly this time. "The baby."

"You need a healer." He couldn't let Tim stop to think about it. Not when there was still blood seeping out from between his fingers. "Come on, keep pressure on it." He steered an unresisting Tim out of the room and nearly tripped.

Well, that answered why the guards hadn't come.

Tim stumbled.

"Come on, keep moving. Don't give up on me now, baby bird." It was dangerous for Jason to move openly through the hallways, but he didn't have a choice. Unless - Damian's room was close. If they could just make it there -

Assuming Damian was still alive.

Damian's room was on the same hallway. His guards had been taken out too. One stroke. They wouldn't have had the chance to scream.

Jason leaned Tim up against the wall. "Stay there."

It wasn't ideal by a long shot, but it was better than what might be in that room.

Jason kept his knife ready and burst through the door.

Damian, ever the light sleeper, jumped from the bed into a ready crouch.

Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

Damian rose, confused. "Jason? What is the meaning of this?"

"Get a healer," Jason said grimly. "Tim's hurt, and I can't be seen." He ducked back into the hallway to drag an increasingly out of it Tim inside.

It would mean getting blood on the no doubt expensive blankets, but Jason didn't much care. He guided Tim to the bed.

"What happened?" Damian demanded as he jumped forward to help.

"Assassins in black." Sudden realization hit. Assassins in black who had left the al Ghul alone. Assassins who had struck after Damian was no longer the heir presumptive. He shot a hard look at Damian. "Sound familiar?"

Damian's face went hard. "Grandfather. I will - " He cut off what sounded like the start to a very promising threat as Tim let out a groan. "The healer." He ran to fetch one.

Presumably.

Jason gritted his teeth and batted the suspicion away. Damian had been on their side for . . . for a couple of decades now, actually, however little Jason looked it. Ra's might be responsible, but that didn't mean Damian was.

"No proof," Tim said dully.

At least he was talking again. "We'll get proof," Jason promised roughly.

"Proof means war." Tim's eyes were impossibly distant. "Better to take private action."

"That works too." Jason still had a soft spot for Talia, but he wouldn't mind seeing Ra's head on a stick. "Give me two weeks to travel, and I can bring you his head in a bag." He grabbed one of the blankets and started cutting off a strip to use a bandage.

"Not you. And not Ra's. Kill him, and the taint will take his whole city."

"I don't particularly care at the moment," Jason growled. "And what do you mean I can't do it?" He shoved Tim's hand aside to put the bandage on.

And froze.

There was something very unnatural about that wound.

"Poison," Tim whispered. "Remember when Bruce used to drill us on those?"

Jason swallowed hard and kept bandaging the wound. "Didn't Dick come up with some stupid little rhyme?"

He had. Jason knew he had. He still remembered it too.

From the look in Tim's eyes, he remembered it too. "I'm not coming back from this one."

"It's slow," Jason tried. "With the healer, it could take weeks. We'll find something."

"Weeks," Tim agreed. "But that's it."

Something heavy and hot was curled up in Jason's chest.

"Don't tell Damian. Have him go send Ra's a message."

 _"What?"_

"He's the heir now," Tim whispered. "The timing will have to be perfect. He can't be here when I start to go, but he needs to be back before I die, and he needs to be surprised. Have to . . . allay suspicion."

"If he finds out I knew and didn't tell him, you're not going to be the only who ends up dead."

Tim drooped a little on the bed. Jason hurried to sit next to him, so that he'd have someone to lean into.

"You'll be alright," Tim managed.

He always was. Always would be as long as that dead man's curse remained unfinished.

That wasn't the comfort it had once been.

* * *

Jason barely recognized the network of vigilantes in the city these days. Mar'i was Nightwing, Lian was Red Knight, that kid Tim had started to train, Carrie, was Robin, Duke was off being an ambassador to another city, and Barbara couldn't hold on to her position as Oracle for much longer.

Pretty soon it might just be him and Damian of the old hats.

And Damian was barely speaking to him these days, so.

Not, of course, that that kept Jason from stopping by to speak to him. It was what the rest of the family would have wanted.

"Hiya, Batsy. How's the brooding tonight?"

Okay, maybe not exactly what they would have wanted, but if Damian was going to revert to being a brat, then Jason was going to beat him at his own game or die trying.

And they all knew he didn't die these days.

Damian actually twitched. Score.

Of course, it might have just been because he hadn't seen Jason swing onto the roof behind him, but that was a victory in and of itself.

"Hey, Red," Robin said cheerily. She hopped up on a gargoyle to get the height she needed to look him in the eye. "The Bat's got something he wants to ask you."

"Oh?" This ought to be good. He turned to Damian expectantly.

"Tt." Damian turned away.

"Well, you definitely got those communication skills from your old man."

Damian tensed. "Robin, we're leaving."

Robin scowled. "Oh, no, we're not. Not until you ask." She pulled her slingshot out and aimed it firmly at Damian. "Don't make me use this."

Damian sighed, but he turned around to face Jason.

And considering that for once there wasn't anything all that dangerous loaded in that slingshot of hers, he must have been on the verge of giving in anyway. They were making progress.

"I am . . . getting married," he gritted out.

Jason's eyebrows went up. "Who's the unlucky lady?"

"A woman of the Gotham nobility." It would be too dangerous to give out her name out in the open, even if they thought they were alone. "It has been rumored that I am too foreign to be suitable. Hopefully this will quiet the whispers."

And even more importantly, provide an heir, because right now, the people with the best claims to the throne after Damian were Mar'i and Jason, and 'daughter of possible illegitimate child of Bruce' and 'tainted possible illegitimate child of Bruce' were not the kind of claims that kept things from spiraling into a civil war.

 _You could win it,_ the taint whispered.

Yeah, if it was trying to tempt him, it was going the wrong way about it.

"Congratulations?" Considering Damian's tone, he wasn't entirely sure that was the right sentiment, but maybe Damian was just ticked at having to tell him.

"I was . . . "

"Hoping," Robin supplied.

Damian grimaced. " . . . wondering . . . if you would make an appearance. In a suitable disguise, of course."

Jason swallowed. There was a long list of people who should have been there for this.

"I'll see what I can do. Might even see if I can drag the old Red Knight out of retirement to come with."

"That would be . . . good," Damian conceded.

A thought struck him and chased some of the melancholy away. Jason grinned wickedly. "I'll even bring a gift."

"Red King - " Damian started to say with considerable alarm.

But Jason was already gone, laughing as he went.

It wouldn't be anything too bad. Just a little something to brighten up the ceremony a bit.

An animal of some kind. Damian had always spent a lot of time with the hunting dogs. He could bring one of those. Or a cat.

Or, he considered as he swung over the market, a cow.

* * *

The last time one of his brothers had been about to become a father, it had ended with three deaths on their side, and Damian coming back from his home city with a red stained blade.

Or in other words, while Jason wouldn't mind having a nephew or another niece, he'd have felt a fair amount of trepidation until they were safely born.

He'd just never thought he'd be waiting this long to hear the news.

Too long.

When the news finally did come, the last thing he was expecting was . . . this.

"What. In. The. Spiral."

Damian stilled for a moment but didn't actually look up from aggressively petting the dog in his lap. Jason wasn't sure why said dog had been allowed into the Bat's main planning room, but that wasn't the biggest issue at the moment.

"Is there a problem, Jason?"

"Why, no, there's certainly no problem with you having an illegitimate child. Or two. With the same woman. Who is married. _All of which I had to find out about from the stinking rumor mill and then the official announcement like the rest of this rotting city."_

"You did not exactly make yourself easy to contact."

"I was in the middle of repelling a coup attempt from that idiot who thought he could claim my court," Jason snapped. "Don't you dare pin this one me. You've been keeping this secret for seventeen years now. You could have found the time."

"I found out only two weeks ago," Damian corrected.

"See, I could believe that if you hadn't gone back to the same woman and _had another kid."_

"They are not mine."

That brought Jason up short. "So what is this? Some sort of scam to avoid a succession war?"

Except they had done tests with blood wards publicly, hadn't they? And Damian had said he had 'found out.'

"They are Father's."

Jason froze.

Then logic reasserted itself. "How exactly does that math work?" Bruce had been cold in his grave long before either of those kids had been born.

Damian grimaced. "Through some unholy mix of the blood magics and the old High Magic. Apparently. The details are - "

"Frankly, I don't want the details," Jason cut in. "Who thought that was a good idea?"

Damian's scowl deepened. "A woman I am attempting to hunt down. That aside, I have determined that there is no trace in the taint in them, and the older one has some promise, so they will serve well enough."

"That's . . . certainly one way of looking at it." Jason shook his head. "Even beyond the grave, Bruce just keeps getting more children."

Damian's lips twitched slightly. "True."

"What about everyone else involved? Their mom, their dad, your wife, for that matter. Terry might predate the marriage by a bit, but Matt sure doesn't."

Damian sighed. "Their father is dead, so he presents no obstacle. I believe I have successfully bribed their mother into keeping her mouth shut. As to my wife," his mouth tightened. "Well. It is not as though her feelings for me got any _worse."_

Jason winced. Tim's arranged marriage had worked out well for both parties involved. Well. Right up until the assassination. Damian's . . . Well, frankly, assassination was probably the only thing that could have _improved_ Damian's at this point.

"Better send Duke the news," he said.

Damian frowned. "I have already sent a message informing him that the city has gained two new heirs."

"Yeah," Jason agreed, "but that's a bit different than letting people know that they've got two new brothers."

* * *

There had been a time where people could have looked at Damian and Jason and legitimately thought they were brothers.

These days, Damian could easily go undercover as Jason's grandfather.

Jason slid a piece on the chessboard. "Your move, Bat."

"I am not the Bat anymore. You know this."

No, that was Terry. The last couple of years had been full of all sorts of firsts. The first Bat to give up the cowl while there was still breath in his lungs. The first heir to get happily married and have a kid before even ascending the throne.

The first of their number to die outside of the city. The first to die in their sleep.

But Duke and Stephanie's deaths were still a little too raw to dwell on long.

"Once a Bat, always a Bat," Jason said with forced flippancy. "Now stop stalling and make your move."

* * *

The taint surged. The Joker, young as ever, clawed his way out to create havoc in the city again. It was all hands on deck.

All hands.

Once a Bat, always a Bat, and now there was a broken body in the street, and Jason really, really wished he hadn't said that.

* * *

It wasn't that Terry was a bad Bat. It was just that for all he was technically Bruce's son, he was the first Bat that Bruce had never actually met to approve of.

He half thought about claiming the name for his own, but the taint's hold felt tighter than ever, and he didn't quite trust himself. Not with that legacy.

* * *

Bats came. Bats went.

Jason? Jason stayed the same.

There had been a time where he'd actually been reluctant to try and kill the Joker.

It was hard to remember that feeling now.

Which didn't actually make it any easier to do.

* * *

He wasn't the last one left who remembered. There was still Clark. Still Conner. Still Diana.

But as the taint grew and the roads grew more and more dangerous, even for them, he saw them less and less.

* * *

He was sharpening a knife over a dead man when Robin showed up in that shiny red uniform threaded through with clockwork that was so different from the suit he once had worn.

He glanced around. "Where's your grimmer half?" He and the current Bat didn't get on well. Jason didn't approve of the mechanization of the Bat suit. The Bat didn't appreciate him sharing his opinion. Things had escalated from there.

Robin was alright, though. And he always had a soft spot for Robins, regardless.

That was when he really looked at Robin, and he knew what she was going to say before she said it.

"He's gone." Her voice shook a little at the end.

"Ah, man." He straightened up and tucked the knife into his belt. The current Bat had been her . . . uncle? Kid was in for a rough time either way. Whatever the exact relation, the Bat had been prince of the city, and this poor eleven year old was his heir. This was going to be a mess. "Who got him?"

"The Jokerz." She swallowed hard. "I got one of them. The rest got away."

That was another thing that had changed. He wasn't the only one with blood on his hands anymore. They couldn't afford to do otherwise.

"I'll help you get 'em, alright?" he said gently. "Now where's the body? We need to move it before someone else gets to it."

"I already did," she whispered. "I - I moved it to one of your safe houses."

"Good job," he praised. This girl had nerves of steel. That would have been hard work at her size. "Let me see what we're working with, and I'll help you figure out a story to tell everyone." He wished that there was someone else to take her home and calm her down while he worked, but the Bat had been forced to send ever more of the city's defenders into the surrounding villages in order to keep them defended. It was the only way to keep any kind of crop coming in to keep the city from starving. With that surge lately, the two of them might be the last vigilantes in the city.

Which brought up another problem.

"Who's next in line for the cowl?" Normally, Robin would at least be a candidate, but this one had been training for what, two years now? There was no way she was going out there in it.

She started to lead him toward the safe house. "I think it should be you."

He stumbled. "What?"

She ducked her head. "I - did some research on you. I was curious."

Oh, boy. "So?"

"So you're Jason, aren't you? Son of Prince Bruce the Great?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "That's . . . complicated. And beside the point. In case you haven't noticed, I'm tainted." And had the bright, glowing green eyes to prove it. "And I'm the Red King." Mind, he almost trusted his second enough to leave that side of the city to him . . .

No. He was not actually considering this. There were few enough cities left in the Spiral as it was, he was not going to doom Gotham by taking the reins.

"It's your birthright," she insisted.

"It's really not." He racked his brain. "What about Nightwing? We could call Nightwing back."

Robin wrinkled her nose. "He tried to kill me once. He doesn't think I'm a suitable Robin."

Okay, maybe he'd gotten a bit out of touch. "Okay, what about . . . Signal? I've heard good things about Signal."

"She's tainted too. And Ghost is dead - actually dead, not just resurrected dead, and Bluejay's technically in exile for being a traitor to the throne, and Flamebird's essentially under siege."

. . . Fantastic.

He actually might be the most qualified candidate.

"Please," she begged. "I'll do it if I have to, but I won't last long, and you know the prophecy. Once we lose the Bat, the city'll fall."

He stared at her. "Kid. Kid, do you know who first said that? I did. I was the one who said that."

"So you do know the prophecy!"

He groaned. "There is no prophecy! It was something stupid I said rather than admit I was upset about the possibility of Bruce dying, alright? No prophecy. No need for the Bat."

She was plainly unconvinced.

And to be fair, prophecy or no prophecy . . . Gotham needed the Bat.

This was a terrible idea.

"I'm not wearing a mechanized suit." He sighed. "But I'm in."

Robin flung herself at him and wrapped him in a hug. Her shoulders were shaking.

Jason put one awkward arm around her and tried to remember what Dick would do in a moment like this.

* * *

There was an eleven year old girl sitting on the throne.

The sharks circled.

There was a man in a dark cloak with a hood that cast his eyes in shadows who stood in the darkness behind the throne.

And sharks were easy pickings for him.

* * *

There was a tiny Robin who now almost never had to make the final blow.

There was a hulk of a man who still looked barely of age who did it for her. Former Robin. Former Red King. And now, more or less immortal Bat.

And as everyone knew, the taint could never claim the city so long as there was a Bat.

* * *

 **Warnings: Death of pretty much everybody, references to torture, death of a pregnant woman, and death of her unborn child.**

 **A/N: According to the CIA, these days an American's life expectancy is a little over 78 years. Thus, in Minimum Height Requirement 50 is a concerning year because Bruce's fighting ability is definitely going down, but the bat family definitely isn't worried about losing Bruce for awhile yet.**

 **But in a world like this one?**

 **According to BBC, in medieval Europe the average life experience was about 30. Of course, that factors in things like infant mortality; if you managed to make it to thirty, you could reasonably hope to make it to your fifties.**

 **But just to your fifties.**

 **Some people, of course, defied the odds and made it past that, but Bruce's lifestyle choices kind of make it unlikely that he would be one of those people. It's equally true that this world is a very different place from medieval Europe. For one thing, they've got magic that makes for way better healthcare.**

 **On the other hand, they've got the taint, so it kind of evens out, and the point stands. When Bruce reaches fifty here, the bat family is right to start thinking of him as having one foot out the door.**

 **On ships: I ship Tim with Stephanie, but with her pre-established backstory in this 'verse, getting them together permanently was not realistic. I considered putting him together with Tam Fox, as making her a noble in this 'verse would make sense, but she would be a Gotham noble, so it seemed to make more sense for him to marry someone outside the city.**

 **I have no idea who Damian married other than that it was Mar'i. That relationship frankly bothers me a bit even within its context of Damian and Dick not being raised at all as brothers; in this 'verse, where Damian definitely thinks of Dick as a brother and where three quarters of the populace assumes they're related to boot, there was no way I was doing it.**

 **I am aware that Mar'i was Dick's kid with Starfire, not Barbara, but to my knowledge, there's no version of canon where he has a kid with Barbara, so I borrowed the name.**


	2. AU: Littlest Wing

**What if Tim's kid had survived the last installment?**

* * *

Birth was not something that could be politely hidden away in the lower echelons in the city. Jason was familiar with the process.

Many women Jason knew of had cursed violently through the proceeding. Princess Cassandra, admittedly, was the first he knew of to have literally called down violent curses of the High Magic on the men attempting to kill her husband instead of the husband himself, but, well.

Different circumstances.

He'd found out about the curse thing from an apprentice healer Tim had been kind enough to pretend he didn't know Jason had bribed.

(It was traditional, okay? Red Kings were _supposed_ to spy on the prince of the city. It would be suspicious if he didn't. And it helped him stay informed. Tim had his own spies that Jason pretended not to know about.)

He didn't mind that. Having to find out the details from the healer, that is. No one in this family expected anyone else in it to give up the details about injury or battle; that was what spies were for.

He didn't mind that. But apparently, the girl had fled out of the room with the new baby princess as soon as it was physically possible, so she hadn't actually seen the end of the fight. All she had were rumors, and the rumors, unsurprisingly, were saying just about everything.

Jason figured he'd get the truth from Tim in a couple of nights.

That wasn't what happened.

* * *

"I ought to kill you." The words were said lightly, but Jason figured the knife he had to Damian's throat made his point well enough.

Damian sat very still. "Keep your voice down, you fool," he murmured. "Unless you want the baby to wake. Again."

He sounded exhausted. Jason felt viciously glad.

"You know," he breathed, "a more suspicious man than I might wonder why you were waiting - in the dark, with a knife - in the room of the last person between you and the throne. Especially when you hadn't bothered to inform one of the few people who could stop you _that his brother was dead_. I had to find out from rumors and the official announcement, Damian. I'm hurt."

"I can't leave her alone," Damian spat. Very quietly, though. Jason wondered just how often the baby had been waking up. "The assassins could come back at any time, and we all know the guards are useless. What did you want me to do? Send someone?"

 _"Yes._ Why not send Mar'i?"

"Because the second she knew what had happened, she took off for my grandfather's city to start collecting heads."

Admittedly, that sounded like something Mar'i would do. Still, he could have sent - Not Barbara. Her mind was as sharp as ever, but it was better if she didn't go into the lower city now that she couldn't walk. Too many would see her as any easy target. Duke was off on that mission. He'd have the same problem contacting Stephanie or Lian as he did Jason.

"Carrie. You could have sent Carrie." He wondered suddenly how she was holding up. No Robin was ever ready to lose their Batman.

Damian opened his mouth to answer but closed it again without making a sound. He closed his eyes in exasperation with himself. "Yes. I should have done that. I fear I am not . . . Not quite up to my usual standards."

Jason swallowed. With the rage slowly ebbing, it was getting harder and harder to ignore what was lurking behind it.

Tim was gone.

Cassandra too, but he'd never really known her all that well. But Tim . . .

He lowered the knife.

"Was it quick?" The fight had been long, he knew that much, but no one had much detail on the actual death.

"Yes." Damian's voice was completely flat.

"Liar," Jason said wearily. It should have made him angry, but he was just - tired. So tired. He forced himself not to dwell on it. "You're regent, I'm assuming."

"Naturally."

"Baby's supposed to be presented a week after birth," he remembered. "You've got what, four days left?"

"Yes." Damian hesitated. "They were so sure it was going to be a boy. They never told me what they would name a girl."

That's right. Damian wasn't just in charge of the city, he was in charge of the baby. Jason shoved the knife into his belt and walked over to the crib. It was hard to see details in the darkness, but he thought he could make out a few wisps of dark hair.

"I was thinking perhaps Cassandra," Damian said. "To honor her mother."

Jason made a scoffing noise. Quietly, though. The last thing they needed was a screaming baby. "She's going to have her mom's magic, her dad's title, and who knows how many of our codenames. The last thing that girl needs is more of a legacy to live up to."

Damian looked rather confused by that idea, but he accepted it with a shrug of his shoulders. "Then I am out of ideas," he admitted.

Jason looked at him incredulously. "You've named every dog in the court. And probably half the strays in the lower town."

"Those are dogs," Damian snapped. The baby stirred restlessly. He quickly lowered his voice to a hush. "This is a _baby._ Someday, she will actually have an opinion on what I come up with."

"Well, you can't just keep calling her the baby," Jason pointed out pragmatically. He leaned down a little closer to get a better look.

He wondered if she had Tim's blue eyes.

"I know that, thank you," Damian said through gritted teeth. "I don't hear you offering up any suggestions."

"Catherine," Jason said instantly and, possibly, without quite thinking it through.

Damian was clearly already geared up for a snappy retort, but he actually swallowed it back. "That . . . is not terrible," he admitted grudgingly. "It might be acceptable."

It wasn't _technically_ a legacy name, Jason assured himself. No one but him still remembered his mother, and it wasn't like he expected his new little niece to be anything like her. No one would put any weight on it.

And it wasn't like he was ever going to have any kids to pass it on to otherwise.

"Hello, Catherine," he whispered. "It's nice to meet you." _And if anyone tries to hurt you like they hurt Tim, I'll rip them limb from limb._

The old need for violence was thrumming through his blood now, so he turned away to head for the window.

Unfortunately, Damian's knife was in the way.

Sneaky little brat.

"Next time you insinuate I had something to do with any of the family's deaths," Damian said with the sort of calmness that Jason knew all too well wasn't really calm at all, "I won't stop with the threat." His smile had a touch of the rictus to it. "You'll heal, after all."

"Yep," Jason said equally calmly.

Then he threw himself forward, letting the knife nick his neck, and shoved Damian into the wall.

 _Kill him,_ the taint whispered.

 _No,_ he growled back. Not kill, just teach him a lesson, teach him not to push when Jason was pulsing with the need to punish a crime that could never be fully avenged -

Damian sprang forward with a battlecry ready, and Jason snarled right back, _more_ than ready to get some blood on his teeth -

Catherine started to wail.

Both men froze and half-turned towards the crib.

Jason slid towards the window as the wails went on. "Well," he said with sudden cheerfulness, "have fun rocking her back to sleep."

Damian turned towards him with a growl. "Don't you _dare -_ "

Jason was already gone.

* * *

He ran into Damian on the streets two nights after the official naming ceremony. It seemed Damian had stuck with Catherine.

If Jason felt anything in particular about that, he was going to keep it to himself.

Carrie wasn't with the new Bat. Probably still pulling herself together. Or was her ankle still acting up? Jason couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd been forced to make that truly awful landing when her line snapped.

Either way, that wasn't the main point of business tonight. Jason looked up from the man he was interrogating and nodded at the sudden convergence of shadows. "Bats."

"Red King. I heard screams."

"Did you?" Jason said innocently. "I can't imagine from where. Me and my friend here were just having a nice conversation about drugs. And who you don't sell them to." He peered down at the man. His eyes had glazed over. "Unfortunately, I think he's just about done talking for the night." He let the man fall back against the alley wall and strolled over to Damian. "So how's our newest little bird?"

"She's fine." Damian was already climbing back up the building.

Jason followed. "And how are you handling it?"

"Fine," Damian said tersely. "She's named. The hardest part is over."

Jason stared at him incredulously. "The hardest part?"

Damian shrugged and pulled himself up onto the roof. "The wet-nurses and such were already hired. In a few years I shall vet some tutors, and then there will be nothing to do until she is ready to begin training."

Jason was vaguely aware that his mouth had drifted open. "What." It wasn't even a question, it was just - "Do _not_ tell me you're just going to ignore this kid until she's old enough to be Robin."

"What should I be doing?"

He actually sounded genuinely confused. Jason kind of wanted to shake him. "You have to be involved! Spend time with her!"

"I was given to understand that training children since the time they could walk was not acceptable here."

"Not everything's about training, you idiot! You just - read to her. Or play."

"Play," Damian said flatly.

 _"Yes._ Or tell stories."

"I will . . . consider this."

"You had better do more than consider it."

"Fine," Damian bit out. "But if I'm involved, so are you."

"Apparently I'm going to have to be if this kid isn't going to turn out as messed up as the rest of us."

"You think _your_ influence will help with that?" Damian asked incredulously.

"At least I wasn't planning on ignoring her!"

Damian's shoulders tightened, but he didn't otherwise respond.

Jason sighed. "We need Dick for this."

"Yes," Damian agreed bitterly.

But Dick was gone.

* * *

There was a stack of rotting heads on the doorstep of his safe house.

Jason blinked at them for a second. His hand pulled a knife on instinct.

But the figure in blue and black who flipped down down from a window ledge onto his doorstep was familiar.

"Hello, Uncle Red."

"Nightwing," he said automatically. He looked from her to the stack of heads and then back to her again. "You might as well come in." He stepped around the gore and unlocked the door, ushering her inside. "If you brought those, you'd better clean them up before daylight. I'm not in the mood to deal with questions."

"Fair enough," she agreed cheerfully.

He frowned. "How'd you know where I'd be anyway?"

She hopped up onto the rickety table that was the front room's main furnishing. "It's the closest safe house you've got to the fortress," she pointed out.

And she knew him well enough to know he'd want to be close.

He turned to shut the door and got one last good look at the heads as he did so. The skin on them looked half-melted, a side effect the taint sometimes had on bodies it had infected in life. As a consequence they were hard to identify, but that didn't really -

His mouth dropped open. He lunged open and grabbed the one on top by the hair, suddenly grateful he was still wearing gloves. He slammed the door shut and rammed the bolt before turning to the table and holding the head up demeaningly. "Is this _Ra's?_ "

She squinted at it. "If it's not, then his is out there somewhere. I might have gotten them mixed up. It was hard to see through all the cloud cover."

"You beheaded Ra's?"

She set her chin stubbornly. "He gave the order. He was the one responsible."

It wasn't even that he disagreed with her. It was just . . . "We're going to war."

"If Lady Mar'i Grayson had done it, we would be," she agreed. "But it wasn't. It was the half mythical Nightwing who no prince on earth could possibly be responsible for."

"And if the taint takes his city?"

"I think Talia has it under control. Don't look at me like that, of course I didn't go after her! Uncle Damian's still weird about her in a way he isn't about his grandfather. I was careful, I was safe, and you're the last one to be lecturing me about any of those things anyway."

"Dick was right. I really am a bad influence on you."

He dropped the head on the table for lack of anything better to do with it. He'd probably have to abandon this safe house anyway.

Dick would have _hated_ it if he'd known what Mar'i had been driven to after he died.

But Mar'i had been the one to find him, and you couldn't see something like that and not come out changed.

He probably should lecture her a bit more just for form's sake, but, well. Hypocrisy and all that. He'd let the new Bat do it.

Plus, he was dying to know. " _How_ did you behead Ra's?"

She grinned.

* * *

" . . . and that is the story of how your grandfather survived the taint and returned to us."

Jason grinned at the scene before him. Damian was cradling Catherine very precisely in his arms. He'd just been finishing the bedtime story as Jason slid in the window. Judging by Catherine's fluttering eyelashes, the baby was just about asleep.

"What, no comments on the violence of my tale?" Damian said. His voice was soft despite the bitter words. Neither of them wanted to disturb the baby.

"Nah," Jason said. "It's a rough world. It's good to let her know how to survive it. That's what all my old bedtime stories seemed to come back to anyway." Don't trust strangers, avoid animals that were acting oddly, don't go out at night. Anyone could be tainted. Any city could fall. It was important to learn what to do if it did.

"And she needs to know her family history," he added.

She needed to know about the parents that had died saving her. She needed to know about the uncle she would never get to meet. She needed to know about the man who had started this whole mess of a family by deciding that the orphaned son of two entertainers in the city at his invitation was his responsibility.

"Speaking of family, you gonna have a problem with Mar'i?"

"My niece has avenged my brother," Damian said. "I see nothing to have a problem about."

* * *

Catherine's first word was "Bat." Technically, it was actually "Ba," but since she was holding her arms up imperiously while looking at Damian at the time, Jason was pretty sure she'd meant Bat.

This would have been less of a problem if Damian had been wearing his mask at the time.

Both of them froze. It was just the two of them in the room, at least. It could have been worse.

"Ba," she repeated insistently.

"Bat?" Jason said, outraged. "What about me?"

 _"That?_ is your problem?" Damian said in a strangled voice. It didn't stop him from picking her up even if he did add firmly, "Damian. _Damian,_ not Bat."

"Da," she said agreeably.

Damian's arms tightened convulsively. She started to whimper.

"Hand her over," Jason said harshly. He didn't leave Damian much choice, snatching her away before he started to bounce her soothingly. "Shh, shh, it's alright. Uncle Damian can be a real meanie, can't he?"

"I am not her father," Damian hissed.

"Obviously," Jason whisper-snarled back. " _Tim_ would have been smart enough not to hold her that tight."

Had Tim gotten to hold her at all in the hours where he'd lingered, the healers desperately working over him? Or had he only ever gotten one brief, vanishing glimpse as she was whisked out the door?

Catherine was whimpering again. That one was on him.

Jason kept rocking her. "Shh. Shh. Here. That's . . . D. Can you say 'D' for me?" He pointed at Damian.

"Da," Catherine said again, frowning.

"No, D," Jason insisted. "Say D."

Catherine just yawned sleepily and snuggled into his shoulder.

"Aw, kid, don't go to sleep on me yet. I haven't even tried to get you to say 'Jay' yet."

But it was too late. The kid was out for the count.

Damian was still looking at her, face frozen in something that would have been horror in someone less practiced in keeping their face a mask.

Dick, Jason thought, might know what to say. Dick's dad had been a good man from what he'd heard, but that hadn't meant there was no place for Bruce in his life. Tim _might_ have known what to say, but then again, Tim had been willing to turn his dad in for treason, so . . .

Jason never really understood that mess of a family at all.

But Jason's not Dick, and not Tim, and frankly he was glad when Willis stopped coming home, and encouraging words aren't really his thing in any case.

Damian straightened and went to the window. He looked strange and cold in the moonlight. "I should not have been left in charge of a child," he finally said. "You would have done a better job of it."

Jason considered that. "As hesitant as I am to argue with you saying you're inferior at something, I do think you're overlooking a crucial point."

"Oh?"

"Yep. Haven't you ever wondered why I don't show up every night?"

Damian raised his eyebrows. "I presumed you were busy."

Jason snorted. "Sure. Busy convincing the taint that I don't actually want to kill the both of you." The taint rose a bit hopefully at the reminder, and he shoved it back again. He was strong enough for that today.

"So we are both terrible guardians," Damian said flatly. "I do not actually find that reassuring." He glared out the window. "Richard - "

"Would have been great at it." He'd done a fine job with Mar'i, after all.

"Timothy - "

"Goes without saying."

Damian's glare discouraged any further interruptions. "Even Father . . . "

Yeah, Jason was just going to ignore that glare. "Bruce practically made a career of it." He looked at Damian doubtfully. "Maybe he passed on those instincts. You know. Deep, deep down." He handed Catherine back over to Damian, who cradled her carefully, determined not to repeat his earlier mistake.

"Tt. I am not father material."

"Sure you aren't, Bats." Jason smirked. "Or should I say 'Ba?'"

"Red King," Damian growled.

Jason was already out the window, laughing as he went.

* * *

It was far too late at night for Catherine to be awake, but in the finest traditions of their family, she was not only awake, she was brandishing a weapon.

"Is that a _knife?"_ Jason demanded, his eyes desperately trying to adjust to the shadowed room. All he had to go on for the moment was a very familiar shape banging surprisingly soundlessly against the crib's bars.

Damian sniffed. "Tt. It is a sword."

"A - " Jason was halfway across the room and reaching for Catherine by this point.

"A cloth one. Stuffed with cotton."

"Oh." That made sense even to Jason's sleep deprived brain. He came to a stop and tried not to sway in place. "Good. She'll need the practice."

Damian's eyes narrowed. "You look about to collapse."

"Don't worry. I'm fine."

"I am not worried, I am uncertain how to explain your bloodless corpse to the nurse in the morning," Damian said sharply. "Sit down and let me see that wound."

Right. The wound. How had he forgotten about the wound?

Jason half-sat, half-collapsed into a chair. He'd let Damian worry about the rest.

Damian hissed when he saw just how much blood had soaked through Jason's shirt. "You fool."

"Can't die," Jason reminded him. "Not till I get the Joker."

"And if you lose every last drop of blood in your body, exactly how long will it take you to heal from that?" Damian snapped.

"Dunno," Jason mumbled. "We could find out."

"After I am dead, you may do as you like," Damian said flatly. "Until then, you will act sensibly if I have to force it at knifepoint."

"'Kay." The rest of the sentence filtered slowly through his brain. He frowned. "I don't want you to die. Then I'll be the last."

Damian started wrapping a strip of cloth firmly across the wound. "Hopefully, that will not be an issue for some time yet. And if we do our jobs properly, you will still have Catherine."

"Then what?" It was probably just the blood loss and the lack of sleep, but suddenly he felt tired right down to his bones. Weary. That was the word he was looking for.

 _Give up,_ the taint whispered.

 _Never._

But that was what he always said, and he couldn't help but wonder . . . How long was never, exactly? How many lifetimes?

"Then you will have her descendants. The House of Wayne shall not fade quietly into the mists." Damian's voice was hushed but no less full of intensity for it.

"Ba!" Catherine agreed in a high pitched, cheerful war cry as she banged her sword even more enthusiastically against the bars.

"See? Everyone sensible in the room agrees with me."

Jason blinked at him. "Did you just call the baby sensible?"

"Compared to you, yes. _She_ tells people when she is hurt."

"Hypocrite," Jason muttered.

Damian might have said something else, but Jason ignored him. He was ready for some sleep.

* * *

Jason hoped for Damian's sake that this batch of assassins hadn't been sent from the al Ghuls, because if they had been, Jason might actually have to kill Damian's mother.

At the moment, though, he just staggered to his feet and limped towards the crib. He had to push past two bodies on his way. "Damian?"

"Alive," Damian said through gritted teeth. He was leaning against the wall, hands pressed to his leg. "What, exactly, are we paying the guards to do?"

"Look impressive?" he suggested wearily. He stopped in front of the crib. Catherine looked up at him with tears leaking from her big blue eyes.

Tim's eyes.

"Jay?" she whimpered.

 _"Now_ you say it," he grumbled. Her clothes were clean of blood, barely even rumpled. There was an assassin right at the foot of the crib. He'd been so sure . . .

That was when he saw the scorch marks on the man's hand and darkening the wood.

Her father's eyes and her mother's magic. Right.

If she started lashing out like that every time she got scared, they might be in trouble. Maybe they should send a missive to Diana.

But diplomatic requests for assistance were Damian's problem. Jason's problem was a little girl with her arms in the air saying in a trembling voice, "Up, Jay, up."

Jason looked down at his blood slicked hands and grimaced. "Probably shouldn't, kiddo."

Her lip shook. "Up," she insisted.

Jason sighed and picked her up. She immediately snuggled into his shoulder, either not noticing or not caring about the blood slowly drying there.

"What?" he said defensively when he saw Damian looking at him. "I'll clean it off her before she gets back in bed."

"Someone will," Damian agreed. "But since the guards are only incompetent, not deaf, perhaps it should be someone else."

Right. He had to go. He reluctantly passed her over to Damian. She didn't protest the movement too much. "Ba-da," she said, now snuggling into Damian's shoulder.

"It's . . . progress," Jason offered.

Damian looked down at her like he had no idea how his life had gotten to this moment. "It could be worse, I suppose."

Jason raised an eyebrow at the hand curled protectively over Catherine's head, keeping it turned so that she wouldn't see the bodies littering the floor.

But he'd learned a little about Damian-wrangling from Dick, so he kept any comments to himself and kept the satisfied grin suppressed until he turned away.

He didn't know what came after this life, but he wondered if Tim was watching. If he was happy with how they were doing.

Well, if he wasn't, maybe he'd wear himself out punching Damian before Jason got there.

There had to be at least some advantages to near immortality, after all.

* * *

 **A/N :** **I don't know much about Mar'i Grayson. The part of her characterization that I've latched onto here is that I've read that in the comics, she started using extremely violent tactics as a response to the craziness in the world about her. If I've totally botched her characterization, you have my apologies.**


End file.
